“Papaya was in our living room — doors closed but got into kitchen — ate a doughnut, put bite marks on loaf of bread. Also nipped Mom’s hand holding Frisbee.”
Somehow, Papa managed to open the living room door and the kitchen door. Apparently the living room wasn’t lively enough for her.
Oh, Papa.
Later that night, I was on the phone with my mom, talking about a video I saw of Echo, a German shepherd/border collie mix with a very sad past. (Watching the updated video gives me some hope. It looks like he has made progress, but my eyes still well up, especially when the girl is brushing him.)
I was also chatting about how Ginger never did the kind of crazy stuff that Papa does.
Well, I’m convinced that Papa heard me. Maybe even understood me. Because when we got off the couch, I noticed a poop she left while she had been curled up — a little brown donut hole.
So she was naughty at my parents' and she left me a surprise. Oh no, Papa! What's going on?